


Once Smitten

by verbaeghe



Series: Russian to Love [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, One teeny bit of plot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tampa Bay Lightning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-04-23 21:41:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19159537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verbaeghe/pseuds/verbaeghe
Summary: It isn’t that Tony’s expecting Misha to already be in their dorm room when he arrives per se, it’s just. Well, it’s junior year, classes start tomorrow, and Misha still hasn’t managed an on-time arrival yet. At least he’s consistent.





	Once Smitten

It isn’t that Tony’s _expecting_ Misha to already be in their dorm room when he arrives per se, it’s just. Well, it’s junior year, classes start tomorrow, and Misha still hasn’t managed an on-time arrival yet. At least he’s consistent.

It’s a dumb thing to worry about as he readies himself for bed, but he misses Misha and wishes he’d hurry up and get here.

  
  


Tony startles awake when Misha slides in behind him that night. He turns his head a bit. “Welcome back.” He cracks a lazy half-smile. “Before classes start even.”    
  
“Well, I missed you,” Misha mutters into the space behind Tony’s ear. His accent is sleepy strong, and Tony loves when it sounds like this.  
  
“Me too,” Tony’s voice drops into a whisper, he relaxes back into Misha’s warmth.  
  
“You missed yourself?” Misha teases, snaking an arm around Tony, placing a flat palm onto his chest and pulling him even closer.  
  
“Mmm, no. You.”  
  
“Good, I’m glad,” Misha replies. Tony can feel Misha’s smile on his neck, and it’s so close to a kiss that a small shudder runs through him. “Sleep now,” Misha adds, his hand moving in a light caress.  
  
Tony drops back off in no time at all.

//

A couple weeks later finds Tony sitting in his stall, thinking about practice and how it went when Coach walks into the room.

“Alright, listen up. I thought picking my captains this year would be a hard decision, but it really wasn’t. You’re all good guys, but three of you really put in the extra time and effort.” Coach stops, smiles. It isn’t really all that inviting. “The As are Colton and Sergachev.”

Tony looks across the room at Misha, beams at him even, because he deserves this. And more. Tony wouldn’t have been surprised if Misha was given the C, because he’s--

“...Cirelli.”

“What?” Tony blinks up at Coach.

“I knew it!” Misha says excitedly, and then everyone is hooting and hollering with him.

Tony stands up, accepts the jersey that Coach is holding out to him. Wow, that C on his jersey sure is pretty.

//

They’re back in their room, stripped to their boxers and tangled together. A small happy sigh escapes Tony when Misha nuzzles into his hairline. “Oh captain, my captain,” he mutters.

It sends a little shiver of delight through Tony. “You’re so cheesy.”

“Yeah,” Misha smiles. “But you love it.”

“I do,” Tony admits. He presses a kiss to the corner of Misha’s mouth. “And I love you.”

“Love you too.” He returns a little peck, then hops up suddenly.

“Ugh, where are you going?” Tony whines, making little grabby hand motions at the place where Misha was a second ago.

“I made off with something earlier, when no one was looking.” Misha says, digging around in his gym bag. He pulls out Tony’s jersey. “Ta da!”

“Why’d you--” Tony almost swallows his tongue when Misha slips in on.

“What do think?” he asks, turning to model it. All Tony can think about as his name swings into view is how _his jersey_ is draped over Misha’s shoulders, about the fabric brushing across every inch of his skin. The name is his, the C is his. _Misha is his_.

It makes his mouth go dry and he _wants_.

“I think you should come back over here,” Tony replies.  

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, pretty sure.” Tony props himself up on one elbow, smirks. “Unless you _don’t_ want me to fuck you while you wear my jersey.”

Misha laughs, skips back to the bed. He pushes Tony onto his back and straddles him. “You really have a way with words, you know that?”

“I mean, it works for you, so.” Tony’s looking at Misha’s arm. He runs a hand up it and across Misha’s shoulder. Cups his face. “Right?”

He huffs a little laugh in reply, leaning in to kiss Tony.

“I’m totally taking that as a yes,” Tony says on his lips.

Misha deepens their kiss.

Tony cups Misha’s face for a second, tips him just so, before he runs his hands around to the jersey’s nameplate. A thrill runs through him when he traces the letters, and then he balls the material into his fists, pulls Misha closer with a groan.

“God, you’re so fucking hot, how dare you do this to me?” Tony manages between kisses.

“You think that’s hot, you should check out my ass.”

Tony laughs. “Is that supposed to be a come on? And you said I’m bad?”

“No, really.” Misha shrugs one of Tony’s hands free, grabs the wrist and guides it down. “You should just trust me here.”

Tony cups it, because who is he to turn down a chance to feel up his boyfriend, and then he realizes, “When did you have time to…?”

“I prepped in the shower after practice.” He bites a quick kiss into Tony’s bottom lip. “Because you’re right, I wanted you to fuck me while I wore my hot captain’s jersey.”

Tony doesn’t need anymore prompting. He shoves Misha’s boxers down while Misha does the same for him. A little hiss escapes him when Misha grabs his dick and gives it a couple of dry tugs.

“Oh, sorry,” Misha grins, reaching for the lube.

Tony sucks his top lip into his mouth and tries to concentrate on the hemline of his jersey before he comes from just Misha’s hand on his dick. Jesus, he’s had sex before, so he can go ahead and act like it any moment now.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he moans when Misha sinks onto him.

“You should try this side of things,” Misha replies, throwing his head back. He takes a deep breath and looks down at Tony. “Or don’t, because I want this all the time.”

He digs his fingers into Tony’s chest, sets the speed at the pace he knows will drive Tony over the edge fastest. Tony bunches the material in his hands again, tugs a bit, tries to get Misha to slow down, but he won’t. He’s just up there looking beautiful wearing Tony’s name and C like he belongs to Tony.

And Tony wants nothing more than this for the rest of his life.

He slips one hand under his jersey, his hand grasping at Misha’s dick while the other twists up the collar. He pulls Misha close. “You’re perfect in this jersey.”

“Yeah?” Misha manages. His face his pink and there’s sweat beading along his hairline. He’s so close and Tony has him right where he wants him.

“Uh-huh, and you know what else?”

“What?”

“I love you,” he answers softly. Misha gasps and comes, pulling Tony right over with him.

It’s amazing to him that Misha still always seems a little surprised when he comes, that sex is still so good for them that he’s caught off guard and it’s...it’s...Tony is off on a tangent.

“I love you too,” Misha nuzzles his cheek, taps him for a kiss that he quickly obliges. “But you know what’s going to suck for you?”

“Um, no?” Tony is confused by Misha’s devious smirk.

“You’re going to have to wear this jersey all the time knowing that I came inside it.” His grin goes lopsided.

Tony groans. He is so fucked.


End file.
